


Knowing

by mypetersburg



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 08:55:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18332783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mypetersburg/pseuds/mypetersburg
Summary: Anya knows now who she is.Anya coping with becoming Anastasia.





	Knowing

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! It's been a LONG time. I loved Anastasia on Broadway! It will be missed. Enjoy!

Anya knows now who she is. When Dmitry drops to his knee and bows, her heart feels like it’s being smashed to pieces. But somehow, it feels full at the same time.

She _knows_ who she is. She is Anastasia Romanov.

He leaves her room that night, eyes low, and she argues and begs him to stay. She cries on the bed, and after she dries her tears, she practices saying her name a few times aloud.

“Anastasia. I am Anastasia Romanov, Grand Duchess of Russia.” she whispers, to the quiet room. It feels different than when she said it on the train. It was just a game then, now it is real.

She is Anastasia Romanov, not Anya. She is giddy for half a second and then looks at the doorway and remembers the way Dmitry jerked away from her, almost frightened, the moment they both knew. What he called her. _Your Highness_.

Suddenly, she wants to be Anya again.

            Lily adjusts the gorgeous blue gown and tells her it’s fit for a Grand Duchess. Dusting at the beautiful thing, she thinks that Anya would scoff and asks how much it costs. She wonders what Anastasia would think.

Suddenly, she repeats her name out loud to herself. The name that feels like a comforting blanket.

“Anya. I am Anya of nowhere.” she whispers, after Lily has left. “I am Anastasia of Russia.”

She isn’t sure which one feels right anymore.

            Dmitry calls her Anya when they get to their seats. He calls her beautiful, too. She didn’t think she could ever be beautiful.

Maybe Anastasia is. She is Anastasia, too, even if he doesn’t call her it. He won’t. He shies away when he hears it and there is always something like heartbreak in his eyes, though she knows she’s just seeing things.

             The Dowager calls her a liar. Not Anya, or Anastasia. It’s absolutely heartbreaking, and it tosses Anya deeper into despair. Except, she isn’t Anya. She isn’t Anya or Anastasia.

She is a liar, a wretched girl after money. She has to come to break an innocent woman’s heart.

Scum. That’s what the Dowager had meant. That Anya was scum off the street, no better than any other liar. She may have been dressed up and made up to look like a Duchess, but she is the dirt beneath the Dowager’s shoe. She will never be Anastasia, and she was stupid to even buy into it. To believe to be something more than a little street sweeper.

And she _hates_ Dmitry for it, for planting this idea in her head. For teasing her with the idea of a family just so he can get his money. She hates him more than anything.

            That night, the Dowager embraces her.

“ _Anastasia,_ ” the Dowager whispers, and suddenly Anya feels whole, complete.

She is Anastasia. She has shed Anya and the pain of Dmitry like a new coat. (Or so she tells herself.)

In the days that follow, she tells herself that the heavy ball gowns and stress of the upcoming press interviews are part of Anastasia. As vital as lungs or a heart. Except Anya’s heart is packed up away in the brown suitcase of a conman who doesn’t deserve to have it.

And Anastasia and Anya sigh as one and cry as one nearly every night, thinking of stupid Dmitry who nearly ruined her life.

            On the bridge, he calls her Anya. She kisses him and he breathes it almost reverently, like a prayer.

 _Anya_.

She knows suddenly, that she is neither Anya or Anastasia. She is both, because they are one. She is a Grand Duchess and a peasant, royalty in love with a common man. She smiles a real smile for the first time in days.

Finally, she knows who she is. She is Anya for Dmitry and Anastasia for her Nana. But really, they are the same. A different name doesn’t mean a different person. The new name doesn’t mean she’s changed.

Anya and Anastasia in one. She decides one night, lying in bed, that she will go by Anya. It is what she remembers most, it is Anya who gave her new life and Anastasia who made sure it stayed.

She knows now who she is. Really and truly, more than she did before. She is a Duchess and a street sweeper, and she has her family again- her Nana and her true love and Vlad and Lily. And it is better than anything she could have imagined. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I know this isn't the GREATEST thing I've ever written. I just needed to get it done and it was very frustrating. Please let me know what you think!  
> (Be nice, though. I'm sensitive.)


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